By Summer Mobley
September is NICU Awareness Month.
Our triplets were born at 30 weeks gestation and spent 37, 37, and 70 days in the NICU. In honor of this month, I will share bits and pieces about our NICU journey - including our ups and downs, how we balanced time at how with our, then, five-year-old and how that time has eternally impacted our family.
Two is the number of times I went into labor with the triplets.
The first time was the day after Thanksgiving in 2015. My husband’s brothers and sisters and their kids were all visiting because I was on bedrest. That morning, the boys had taken all he kids to go hunt for a Christmas tree (the story of the tree deserves its own post). When they came back, we decorated the tree. That’s when the contractions started. I sat, quietly, timing them. After an hour I texted Ray, who sat across the room from me and confessed I’d had seven contractions in the last hour. He immediately stood up and told me to get my bag, call my doctor and load up in the car to head to the hospital. Fast forward, we were lucky enough that my doctors were able to stop my labor. I was 29 weeks pregnant at the time.
I went into labor, for the second time, a week later. This time, there was no stopping it. The babies were coming. (To this day, I blame Xander. I think he was tired of getting kicked by his feisty sisters.) I was 30 weeks pregnant.
A few hours before the babies were born, one of the neonatologist who worked at the NICU came to speak with me and Ray. This had happened the week prior when I went into labor, so we knew what to expect from him, yet even so, his words were so hard to hear.
He spoke of what we could expect to find after the babies were born. Things like brain bleeds or holes in their hearts to respiratory distress and the need to be intubated. What it really boiled down to, is that the doctors really had no idea what shape our 30-week gestation triplets would be in upon birth. He promised that the team caring for our kids would do everything they could to make sure things were ok. It was so scary, yet so peaceful at the time. And not peaceful in the sense that I’m sure your brain jumped to, but peaceful in that we knew beyond a shadow of doubt, that no matter what, God was good, and God was in control.
Approximately 12 hours after my labor started the second time, the triplets were born at 30.4 weeks. They weighed 4lbs, 6oz; 2lbs, 15oz and 3lbs, 13oz.
Three is such a crazy number when I think back to our time in the NICU.
Of course, the obvious is that we had triplets. And yes, for the crazies that look at me like “Huh!? WTF?! Did you really just say tri…??” Yes, I said it and meant it. And yes, that means three babies. Thank.You.Very.Much.
But three had so many meanings, as a result for us.
Three times the amount of people in the operating room (Ray counted 22 people).
Three receiving teams (which I will get into on a future post).
Three Pods that the triplets were divided into.
Three phone calls we had to make to three different nurses every time we called the NICU for an update.
Three hands-on times, each spaced 30 minutes apart, and repeated every three hours.
Three also signifies the number of days post-birth that I got to go home. Except, I went home without the three children who occupied my body for 30 weeks. The three children who sent me into labor twice. The three children who I’m positive learned to fight each other in utero (and one who proved her karate skills by dislocating THREE of my ribs while I was pregnant). Three days after giving birth, I had to leave three HUGE chunks of my heart inside a hospital and we had no idea how long it would be until they’d be able to come home.
Three of us at home, waiting for the other ½ of family to grow big enough and well enough to join us.
Three months before our whole family would be home, together, for the first time.
And in three months, from this moment, the three teeny tiny humans that I get to call my kiddos, will turn three years old. The time has gone so fast.